Virtue and Vice
by Bloody Toxic Penguins
Summary: There are Seven Deadly Sins, they had committed each and everyone one of them. There are Seven Heavenly Virtues, they had preformed everyone one of them. For like wind cannot be without thunder, Madara and Hashirama cannot live without virtue or vice.
1. Lust

**Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto**_  
_

**Dedicated to: RogueAngleofSatin**

* * *

The summer night was sticky with a cool breeze blowing through the window, smelling of leaf and soil and the coming rain. It tickled Uchiha Madara's senses as he stared at the frustrating man before him. "I don't understand," Madara growled, tossing a shock of hair over his shoulder, "why you wanted me to here at this hour! It's almost two in the morning!" He folded his arms over his muscular chest and shifted his weight causing the fresh tatami to squeak beneath his feet, release the sweet smell of fresh cut grass. "Couldn't the discussion about the alliance with Iwagakure wait until morning?"

Hashirama felt his lips curl into a tiny smile as he shook his head, mud brown hair swishing softly in the pregnant darkness. "My summoning of you has nothing to do with the possible alliance with Iwagakure."

"I don't like being summoned as if I'm some mongrel cur!" Madara snarled, eyes narrowing dangerously. His Sharingan spun sanguine in the darkness.

"Oh Madara..." Hashirama whispered softly.

"Don't you _oh Madara_ me, Senju!"

"Can I just want to see you, without out politics meddling in the middle of everything?"

"At two in the fucking morning?"

"A potent hour, no?"

Madara snorted. "Clearly," he said tersely, "you don't enjoy our dances nearly enough as I thought you did." His eyes narrowed further in his annoyance. When Hashirama didn't answer right away, Madara bit out a snarl. "I'm leaving!" he pivoted and made for the door.

"You mistake me," Hashirama whispered softly, halting Madara more effectively then any trap. "I do enjoy our 'dances' as you dubbed them." Hashirama allowed a lazy smile to spread across his lips, "But sometimes I want to just be with you."

"Hn," Madara blinked slowly before turning around, "I see."

Hashirama smiled as he walked up to him on cat-silent feet. Madara felt his own grin spread across his face before he tossed a thin silver needle, slicing Hashirama's cheek. The clouds drifted away from the glorious full moon, it's silver light illuminating the blood oozing down Hashirama's cheek, turning it a chilly black. Hashirama touched his cheek, staring at his blood. "You cut me," he stated. Madara felt a shiver of pleasure tingle down his spine to his nether-regions at the sight, his predator's grin widening.

"Of course," Madara stated, taking a few quick strides up to the man, stopping mere inches from him. "It..." Madara reached up and drew his finger along the bleeding wound, he pulled his hand away and stared at the blood before rubbing it between the pads of his thumb and first two fingers. Tantalizingly slow, he raised his fingers to his lips and his tongue darted out, snake-like, to lick the blood from them. "Excites me!" Madara's Sharingan seemed to grow brighter as the utterance.

Hashirama chuckled softly, before cupping Madara's unmarred cheek. "And your skin," the taller man said, "is so pale it seems to almost glow in the moonlight." Hashirama removed his hand, only to use his index finger to trace the sharp angle of Madara's cheek until it met his firm jaw.

"Tch." Madara hissed but didn't bat the other man's hand away. He allowed the Senju to trace the curve of his neck, pausing at the center o his throat. Hashirama could feel the steady rhythm of Madara's pulse and breath, knowing that he could easily crush Madara's throat and kill him.

"So beautiful," Hashirama breathed before resting his hand on Madara's shoulder. He wiggled it beneath the Uchiha's yukata, pushing the shoulder down to reveal creamy flesh crisscrossed with cicatrices. Hashirama watched as the night air perked Madara's nipples up, or was that due to Madara's bridled lust? Hashirama shivered with want at the sight, he traces a scar, remembering the battle where that wound was born. "Your body..." Hashirama leaned forward and kissed the skin of Madara's warm shoulder, "is so beautiful."

Madara raised his other arm and stroked Hashirama's hair as the Senju continued to press soft butterfly kisses to his exposed side. "I see what this is," Madara whispered. He leaned forward slightly, his lips brushing against the curve of Hashirama's ear. "Sin begets sin," that predator's smile spread across the Uchiha's lips again, "in the witching hour." Madara hissed before his lips closed around Hashirama's lower lobe and sucked, a tooth digging into the tender flesh. Hashirama opened his mouth to say something but a moan tore itself loose from his throat. Madara ran his hand down Hashirama's hair, tugging at it as he did so until his fingers found the soft flesh at Hashirama's nape. He dug blunt fingers into the Senju's skin until he felt it break and hot blood slowly ooze up, revealing four bloody crescents.

Madara took a step back and tugged his obi free, revealing his nakedness to Hashirama. The Senju's brown eyes roved over his body and Madara felt himself preen like a peacock with pride. He knew Hashirama liked what he was seeing and that the Senju was growing weak kneed. "I see it," Madara purred, as he slowly closed the gap between them, "you want me, desire me," Madara stopped before Hashirama, their bare toe touching. Madara pressed his hand against Hashirama's firm thigh and slowly dragged it up, nails scratching as he did so. He leaned forward, "Crave me!" his hand found the prize and he gave Hashirama a firm tug.

Hashirama gasped softly at the sensation, though it morphed into a series of guttural moans as Madara's hand worked him. Suddenly, the ministrations to his throbbing erection stopped and Madara was no longer close enough to smell musk coming off of him. Hashirama whimpered a little, but he soon found Madara sitting on the futon with his legs spread wide and his cock at attention among the tangle of black hair; his yukata was discarded besides him and he held a little bottle in his hand while the other held a kunai.

Grinning like a hellcat Madara whispered: "Come, Hashirama."

Hashirama's throat went dry as he untied the obi around his waist; he practically threw off the yukata he was wearing before taking shaky steps towards Madara. He felt like he was man that was dying of thirst and Madara was a fresh clear spring. Hashirama fell to his knees and hobbled the rest of of the way to Madara.

"Yes," Madara growled softly, lustily, guiding Hashirama's head between his legs. The Uchiha hissed when Hashirama's hot mouth engulfed his member, felt his harden slightly more against the Senju's mouth. Little grunts and moans escaped Madara's throat as he tossed his head back, exposing his throat. His hips trembled with the urge to buck, but he held back. It would do no good if he would choke the Senju. Groaning, Madara leaned forward, petting Hashirama's hair as the Senju continued to suck on him. "That's it," Madara whispered before trailing the kunai along Hashirama's back. He drew the kunai back with a practice flick of the wrist, the tomoe of his Sharingan spinning delight at the sight of Hashirama's blood flowing out of his ruined flesh.

Hashirama gave a jerk, teeth scraping the hypersensitive skin of Madara's dick. The Uchiha let out a pleased snarl, cutting Hashirama again and again and again, until his back was curved with little wounds and a trickling river of red was sliding it's way towards Hashirama's firm buttocks. "Yessssssss... Like that... Ooooooh," Madara moaned when he watched Hashirama's chakra heal him and felt his lover's tongue press against his swollen crown, "Ffffffff-uuuuuuuck!" Madara moaned, and was unable to prevent himself from bucking his hips, until his cock hit the back of Hashirama's throat. Sputtering the Senju pulled away, gasping for breath.

"S-Sorry..." Hashirama gasped, one hand around himself and the other pressed against the futon. "Lemme finish," Hashirama leaned forward but Madara shoved him away.

"No," Madara whispered and repositioned them. He trailed his hands in the blood that oozed down Hashirama's back. "I wish you didn't heal yourself," Madara tutted, "I like watching you bleed. Oh well." Madara took out the small bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth. The heady scent of cloves filled the air, and Hashirama gasped in surprise as the cool oil touched his backside. Madara's oil slick finger was soon delving itself deep between Hashirama's buttcheeks, seeking that special euphoria educing spot.

Madara found it quickly enough and began to rub and message it, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as Hashirama moaned and squirmed beneath him. Madara added finger after finger, until he was three fingers deep in Hashirama. "Yes," Madara purred against Hashirama, "just like that. Whimper for me, _Kami no Shinobi_."

"Uh... uh... uh..." Hashirama moaned and dropped his head, panting heavily as his hands fisted the pillow before him. "Ugh!" he bucked against Madara's hand, listening to his lover's dark chuckle as the dark hair man forced whiny little moans from his throat.

"Shhhh," Madara whispered as he pulled his fingers, "mustn't be too loud now," he dribbled the clove oil over his cock, gasping as he smoothed it over this sensitive part of his anatomy. "Wouldn't want your dearest brother to hear us now," he pour some more oil between Hashirama's butt-cheeks.

"Madara..." Hashirama gasped.

"I think you're good," Madara said, "dripping like a bitch almost," he grinned nastily as he set the bottle aside. He the positioned his cock at Hashirama's hole, squeezing between Hashirama's firm ass-cheeks. Hooking his fingers into the Senju's hips, Madara gave a well practiced thrust and drove himself balls deep into Hashirama as he yanked the other man's hips up to meet his.

"_OH!_" Hashirama cried as Madara began to pound out a rhythm of pleasure and pain. With each thrust, another cry-growing in volume-was torn from Hashirama's throat. He soon was grinding against Madara himself without the other man's aid, but Madara soon prevented Hashirama from moving with the fluid motion. He held Hashirama still as he brutally ground into him, almost as if they would fuse together and become one if Madara just pushed a little bit harder than before. "Aaahahahaahaaaaa!" Hashirama cried, sweat and blood mingling along his back. Madara leaned forward and licked the concoction up Hashirama's spin until he was at his nape.

Madara kissed Hashirama's nape as he naked his hands down the Senju's arms and interlocked their fingers together. "Are you enjoying this?" Madara panted into Hashirama's ear. He licked the shell before pressed his teeth into Hashirama's shoulder and jerking his hips. He grunted as Hashirama gave a little whimper. "Like me being balls deep in your backside?" He gave another little thrust to prove his point.

"Y-Yes..." Hashirama whimpered, nodding and enjoying the feel of his lover/best friend/rival being buried deep inside him. "S-So... m-much!" Hashirama wiggled his hips, which caused Madara to moan softly.

"Cheeky bastard," Madara chuckled softly, before he bit Hashirama on the throat to the point pleasure bleed into pain. He allowed Madara to stay like that as Madara drew his hands back up his arms and grabbed Hashirama around his cock. Madara let go of his throat, admiring the perfect imprint of his teeth in his lover's throat before his thrusts began again at a brutal pace, though this time he worked Hashirama's cock. Since the poor Senju bastard needed his hands to fist the futon as if the mattress was his only anchor between reality and total rapture.

Madara bit into Hashirama's back, causing the other man to yowl like a she-cat in heat and arch against him. "A ripe mixture of pleasure and pain," Madara murmured huskily against Hashirama's skin, before picking up speed and his bites taking on a more brutal quality until Hashirama wasn't sure if his yelps were due to pleasure or to pain.

Then he came. His orgasm rocketed through him like lightning, tearing a primal scream from his throat. He felt his muscles spasm and his seed coat Madara's hand and drip onto the futon. Madara came a few moments later.

Panting. Trying to grab their fleeing breath and sooth their tingling nerves all at once. Hashirama felt Madara pull out of him and pull him down to cuddle. Madara only ever allowed cuddling after he climaxed. Hashirama thought it was an endearing quirk of his. The two blooded shinobi lied there-coated in blood, sweat and semen-in each other arms.

They lost track of time, until they heard a bell toll from outside. It's deep resonate voice rang thrice through the budding village. "It's over..." Hashirama whispered.

"Hn," Madara nuzzled the other man's shoulder.

"The witching hour is over."

"And now," Madara purred, tracing a swirl pattern on Hashirama's stomach, "we wallow in our sin." And he kissed the Senju.

* * *

**Between the hours of two and three am is the Japanese witching hour. I felt this hour of day was fitting for the two of them to fuck. **

**R'n'R**

**Sanguinary Toxicity**


	2. Chastity

**Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

Snow crunched beneath his feet and blood leaked out of his wound and down his fingers to drip scarlet on the pristine snow. Madara growled softly and clutched his wounded side tighter. He was covered in bleeding wounds, but the one on his side was the worse. "I don't see why you won't let me heal it," Hashirama said. He was standing a few feet before him, long hair dancing lazily in the frigid mountain wind.

"I don't need your help," Madara growled. "Let's just keep walking. We should find someone from our clans sooner or later."

"It's a blizzard. They are probably all hunkered down and waiting out the storm. Nobody can fight in this weather."

"The Yuki clan does."

"The Yuki clan is use to it. They are a clan utilizing ice style ninjutsu."

"Hn," Madara just glared at Hashirama, his eyes their dark grey color, too tired to keep his Sharingan activated. Plus, he was currently focusing on circulating fire nature chakra through his keirakukei to warm himself. It was a taxing trick he created, but so far it was keeping him warm enough.

"You're losing too much blood," Hashirama pointed out when Madara started to walk again. "Let me just stop the bleeding and close it up for you a bit." Madara said nothing and walked pass Hashirama. "Madara!"

"I don't want your help, I don't need it."

"Stop being so stubborn!" Hashirama shouted as he walked after Madara. "You'll die and then how will you protect Izuna!"

At that comment, Madara spun around, his Sharingan spinning angrily in his eyes, the pattern was different, it was his Mangekyou; even more taxing for his already weaken and injured body. "I will not die!" Madara snarled, straightening his spine, "I will protect Izuna at all costs! And I will do—" he grunted, swayed and fell to one knee, gasping breath coming out in icy little puffs.

"You are going to die. I cut you pretty deeply. I may have nicked a few of your organs," Hashirama said as he ran up to the Uchiha. "If you don't let me treat that wound you will die."

Madara looked up at Hashirama stubbornly, but he soon dropped his other knee and nearly fell face first into the cold snow, if he didn't catch himself. "Stop being a damn fool, Madara," Hashirama said and knelt in the snow. "Let me treat you."

"...Fine," Madara finally relented. He pushed himself back onto his heals before undoing the obi at his waist. Every movement caused his wound to ooze more blood. Madara finally removed his shirt, blood and cuts marred his creamy skin. Hashirama ignored the tantalizing view, summoned the medical chakra to his palms and pressed them against the great big gash. Madara hissed, biting his lip as the healing ninjutsu took effect. "Don't heal it all the way... I want to keep the scar."

"Are you serious?" Hashirama asked, looking at him.

"Have I ever not been serious?"

"I have nothing to stitch it together. I'm going to heal it all the way. But I'll try to guide the cells into forming scar tissue."

"Hn."

"Damn stubborn Uchiha," Hashirama muttered under his breath. Madara shot him a look but didn't say anything. It took only a half hour for Hashirama to heal Madara's wound, making sure the tissue healed into a thick ropy scar. It was slightly pink when he was done, and Madara lightly ran his fingers over it. He shivered at the sensation.

"It's sensitive," he commented, in an absent sort of way.

"Yes, it probably will always be sensitive. Wounds healed by medical ninjutsu don't normally leave scars."

"Hn," Madara put his shirt back on and tied the obi around his waist. Hashirama could see his handing work, being dyed crimson, through the slash in Madara's shirt.

"Now what?" Hashirama asked.

"We get off this damn mountain, like we were doing before you insisted on stopping and healing me."

"You were pale as the snow! You would've been dead before anyone found us."

"Let's just get going. I might start trying to kill you again if we keep arguing."

"You know that neither you nor I have enough chakra left for a fight."

"I can still use taijutsu," Madara gave Hashirama a nasty grin. The Senju just sighed tiredly, before getting to his feet. He offered his hand to Madara, but the Uchiha batted it away and stood up on his own. "Let's go," he said and walked towards the vast grey-white horizon.

* * *

They didn't know how long they walked, but the blizzard wasn't letting up and they were completely lost. "We should find shelter!" Hashirama bellowed over the wind. Madara ignored him. "I can create a house using my mokuton. We can wait the storm out."

"And you expect me to stay in a house built from your chakra?" Madara arched a brow. "And I thought you were too tired to use ninjutsu."

"I am! But I have a little bit left."

"Really?" Madara grinned nastily.

"Madara," Hashirama sighed tiredly. He really didn't want to fight. He was cold, his toes were freezing. He was diverting chakra to his feet to ward off frostbite, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep that up. Plus, he was hungry. He tuned out Madara's chatter, as he searched for a soldier pill. He found it and pressed it to his lips, before realizing that would increase his chakra volume and Madara would instantly sense the spike and press for a fight. He returned the soldier pill to his pouch.

He was about to respond to Madara, when he heard the screech of monkeys. "Madara, shh."

"Don't you dare—"

"Madara, shut up!" Hashirama hissed, adding a bit of chakra to his words. Madara fell silent. "You hear that?" Hashirama asked.

"No..." Madara tilted his head towards the direction Hashirama was facing. "Yes... I do actually. Sounds like monkeys."

"Yes!" A wild gleam sparkled in Hashirama's eyes. "Monkeys."

"I don't understand why you are getting all excited about a bunch of apes."

"Because!" Hashirama stated as if Madara should logically know the answer.

"That's not an answer!"

"Because the mountain monkeys of this region use hot springs to keep warm!" Hashirama grabbed Madara's wrist. "If we find the monkeys, we find the hot springs, and we can keep warm until this storm lets up and we can get back to our clans." Hashirama said as he trampled through the snow covered forest, dragging Madara along.

"I'm not getting naked with you!"

"Fine," Hashirama shot of his shoulder, "you can freeze."

Madara didn't say anything, but he did pull his wrist free and followed Hashirama. They trotted through the forest until they came out on the other side. "Look there," Hashirama pointed, Madara followed his gaze and saw the tawny heads of the monkeys. Madara shivered a bit, seeing that the monkey faces eerily reminded him of humans. Their fur was speckled with fluffy white flakes and they seemed happy enough to laze about in the warm water. "Hold on," Hashirama stated, before clasping his hands together. The earth rumbled and there was the cracking sound of wood; Madara bent his knees as a thick branch lifted them up to the ledge. The monkeys screeched, baring their fangs before the troop scrambled out of the water and up into the nearby cliff face. They stared angrily at Hashirama and Madara with dark eyes as the two stepped off the branch and to the ledge where the hot spring was located.

"Can't you feel that heat?" Hashirama asked to Madara who was walking off in the direction the monkeys took. "Madara?"

"I told you, I have no interest in getting in there with you." Madara said, before tilting his head up to stare at the monkey troop. They stared back at him. The babies clung to the back of their mothers, and the young males inched closer to him, determine to prove their worth to the troop's elders. Madara flashed his Sharingan and peeled back his lips. The monkeys squeaked and retreated farther up the mountainside.

"Madara, stop terrorizing the monkeys," Hashirama said. Madara turned to reply, but he was stuck dumb when he saw Hashirama. The Senju was standing completely naked save for his white loincloth around his hips, the snowflakes that were landing on his skin were melting and little rivulets of water trickled down his skin. Madara felt heat rush to his cheeks and his groin.

"What are you doing?!" he snapped, glad to use his frustration with the man before him to not focus on what he would rather being doing to him.

"Getting into the hot spring." Hashirama said, squatted and pressed his hand against the ground. There was a rumble of the earth for a moment before Hashirama removed his hand. "There." He said and got in. By the looks of it, Hashirama created a small shelf for him to sit on, for his body was submerged up to his neck. "C'mon in Madara, the water is wonderful."

"I told you, I won't get in."

"I made enough room for two to sit," Hashirama said innocently.

"I'm not getting in!" Madara snarled. Hashirama's shoulders slumped, he made a sad sound but didn't say anything more.

* * *

It had been a few hours and Hashirama will admit that he dozed off at some point and only woke up to the sound of chattering teeth. The monkeys were still watching the ninja duo from a safe distance, but the monkeys weren't making the sound. It was Madara. He had his arms wrapped around himself, stamping his feet to get blood to circulate and his teeth were chattering. His lips were tinted blue and his skin was unnaturally pale. "Madara!" Hashirama swam to the edge near Madara. "Get in now! You're lips are blue!"

"I-I-I r-r-refuse!" Madara bit out through his clattering teeth, and lifted his chin just a bit higher.

"Madara!"

"N-No!"

"You'll die!"

"I don't want to get in with you." He growled. "I'll be fine."

"Don't make me drag you in!" Hashirama grabbed the ledge of the hot spring and was about to pull himself out when Madara gave a reluctant huff.

"Fine," he said, rubbing his biceps. "I'll get in." He shuffled towards the other side, and was about to take off his clothes when he felt Hashirama's eyes on him. "Don't watch me!" he growled.

Hashirama chuckled. "Why? You have the same issue like you do with someone standing behind you while you piss?"

"I have no problem stripping in front of someone," Madara said with as much dignity as he could muster, "it's just I refuse to strip while you're watching!"

"Oh..." Hashirama nodded, "fair enough." He looked away and listened to as Madara grumbled the entire time he took his clothes off. There was a splash and a rather content sigh, before Hashirama decided he was safe enough to look, alas Madara was no where to be found. Hashirama frowned until Madara's head broke the surface, hair wet and matted to his face. The unruly spikes looked like wilted flowers almost. Hashirama smiled and swam back to the ledge and sat next to his friend.

Madara scooted away before relaxing in the warm water. "I told you the water's nice."

"Shut up Senju," Madara growled, eyes closed, lips and cheeks now a rosy pink. Hashirama swallowed loudly before looking away. Madara cracked an eye open to watch Hashirama, but when the Senju didn't do anything interesting he closed it again, just listening to the sounds of nature as he warmed up.

Around this time, the ever watchful monkeys began to gather their courage and inch down towards the hot spring. Hashirama watched them in the manner of someone watching birds. The monkeys watched him as they walked across the snow, until they reached the their clothes. A monkey grabbed Madara's obi, chattered to it's fellows before scampering off with it. "Hey!" Hashirama shouted, lunging at the animals. The monkeys squeaked, grabbing clothes.

"What is it Hashirama?" Madara asked, opening his eyes, a bit irked his nap was ruined.

"The monkeys are stealing our clothes!" Hashirama shouted as he scrambled out of the water after a monkey that had taken his shirt.

"Fuck!" Madara shouted, coming fully alter. He climbed out of the water as well and began to chase the monkeys with their clothes.

They didn't get very far before the winter cold bit their nearly naked bodies with it's savage teeth. They yelped when they finally registered the cold. Hashirama skedaddled back to the hot water, jumped in and shivered until the water banished the cold. Madara tried to ignore the cold but the younger monkeys thought this was a came and began throwing snowballs at him. He tried to weave the signs for the Hosenka jutsu to counter the monkeys' snowballs, but his hands were trembling from the cold. So, he admitted defeat and treated to the hot water with Hashirama.

The two ninja glowered at the monkeys, as the animals tried on their clothes, screeched at each other before ultimate playing tug-of-war with their garments and ripping them.

"Well," Madara said, "there goes our clothes."

"Now what do we do?"

"The answer is clear, you need to go and get help."

"Me?" Hashirama's eyes grew wide. "Why me?"

"It was your dumb idea to climb into their hot spring."

"We're warm right?"

"And our clothes got ripped to shreds by monkeys!" Madara snarled.

"Oh, don't be like that," Hashirama tore his gaze away from the gleefully screeching monkeys to stare at his friend. "Everything will be okay." Hashirama said and reached for Madara but the other man pulled away. "Why are you being like that?" Hashirama asked.

"Being like what?" Madara asked matter-of-factly.

"Being standoffish."

"Aren't I always?"

"Well... erm... uhm..." Hashirama rubbed his head. "I guess..."

"So why is it bothering you?"

"Well, erm," Hashirama looked away, fidgeting with his fingers. Madara studied his rival, before his eyes widened as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. He burst into laughter.

"You?" Madara laughed. "And here I thought you had a thing for the Uzumaki princess!"

"What?" Hashirama's cheeks turned red at the implication. "N-No! I... I really like you... well... like seems too weak of a word..." Hashirama stammered.

"Oh, gods this is rich!" Madara tossed his head back, clutching his stomach as he continued to laugh at Hashirama's expense. The Senju felt the indignant color rise in his cheeks and moved towards Madara, determine to shut him up.

Madara opened his eyes in time to see the ridiculous face of his friend. _He's gonna kiss me!_ Madara thought in a panic and punched Hashirama in the gut. The Senju grunted and slumped into the water.

"What... what was that for?" Hashirama gasped.

"You know damn well what that was for!" Madara snarled, some pink tinting his cheeks. He couldn't... wouldn't acknowledge his own forbidden feelings for the man next to him. He scooted away a bit from Hashirama, and ignored Hashirama's beaten puppy look.

"I'm sorry," Hashirama muttered after a few moments.

Madara didn't say anything, just simply allowed the air and monkey chatter to fill the awkward silence. "It's just that I rea—"

"Don't." Madara bit out curtly, it took all his will power not to look at the other man. "Just don't."

"But..."

"We can't."

"Madara..."

"Hashirama," Madara stiffly turned his head to stare at the Senju. "We can't."

"If we gave it a chance then..."

"I won't risk Izuna's life."

"But..."

"No." Madara said as his fingers found Hashirama's beneath the water. "We can't. It's forbidden. You are from the Senju and I'm from the Uchiha." He squeezed Hashirama's fingers tightly.

"Right," Hashirama nodded, squeezing Madara's fingers in return. "It's forbidden."

* * *

**Part two of my Virtue and Vice collection is Chastity! I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll try to make it so that the vice and it's opposite virtue are paired together. But there is no promises. Sometime it'll be random. **

**And for those wondering if there will be mot steamy hot smut in later chapters, all I can say is maybe. And as for who will top who, that depends on the mood I'm in. I don't care who tops who as I'm not a YAOI: I RAEP BECAUSE I CARE fangirl. **

** In Japan there are monkeys that soak in hot springs during the winter to keep warm. They were rather unhappy that Madara and Hashirama chased them out of their hot spring, thus they got their revenge by stealing and tearing up their clothes. **

**R'n'R**

**Sanguinary Toxicity**


	3. Wrath

**Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

Madara looked up when he heard the door slam open and then slam shut just as quickly. "Welcome..." he didn't finish as he saw his daughter streak across the room, completely ignore him in the kitchen as he molded sticky rice for _onigiri_. "Back..." he said a little weakly. He frowned, finished making the _onigiri_ that was in his hand, before washing them and heading to the hall closet where the small family stored their futon. "Shiori?" Madara called, noting that there was a small crack between the wall and the door. "Shiori-chan, it's Papa," he squatted down and reached for the door but Shiori quickly slid it shut with a firm clack.

Madara frowned, even during the first days after they brought her back from the orphanage, Shiori never closed the close door when he or Hashirama tired to coax her out of the futon closet. "Shiori, what's the matter? You can tell me." Madara said, using his gentlest voice possible. It wouldn't do good to scare his fourteen-year-old daughter.

"Go away," Shiori said barely above a whisper.

"Shiori," Madara reached for the closet door.

"No!" she shrieked, sounding more like a cornered animal that a teenage girl, "Don't open the door! Go away!"

Madara sighed, not wanting to traumatize her even further. "When you decide to come out, you can talk to me or Daddy," he said. "We'll listen, you know we will." There was no reply as he stood up and went back to the kitchen to start dinner, grumbling about it being his week for the evening meal.

Yet, surprises seem to come in pairs for his adoptive sons were also standing in the kitchen. Both Izumi and Ryusuke were chowing down on the onigiri he made, though Izumi was sporting several bruises on his face. He was scowling for some reason, and Izumi never really scowled. Not like he use to when he was a boy convinced that Madara had sold the Uchiha to th Senju.

"What did you do?" he asked, eyes narrowing, wondering if this was how his mother felt when he and his brothers came back from getting into some sort of mischief.

"Izumi-nii—OW!" Ryusuke rubbed his shin.

"Izumi?" Madara arched a brow, staring down at the two Uchiha brothers.

"Nothing," Izumi replied with a huff.

"Nothing doesn't leave bruises on your face," Madara said, he folded his arms over his chest. "Spill. Now."

"Shiori asked us not to," Ryusuke said.

"Shiori?" Madara felt his body stiffened. "What does Shiori have to do with this?"

"She made us swear not to tell," Izumi replied. "I took care of it anyway."

"What happened to your sister?!" Madara snarled, Sharingan bleeding into his eyes. He wanted to know what happened to his daughter. The poor girl had enough trauma in her life, having witness her parents being cut down by members of his clan. She still couldn't look at his face when he had his Sharingan activated. She didn't like loud noises or strangers coming into the house without her meeting them first in a neutral location. He knew children were traumatized during the war, hell, he still had nightmares from time to time about the battles the killed his brothers. But he never seen such a lasting scar like it left on Shiori. Then again, she was only three when her parents were killed.

"We... Shiori made us promise," Ryusuke said. "Please."

"Father, I took care of it. Shiori is alright now, she's just shaken," Izumi said.

"Your sister is hiding in the futon closet!" Madara snarled, pointing to the hall. "She is not alright! Tell me what happened!"

"No," the boys replied together. They eyes turned blood red with their Sharingan. They knew they could never take on their father, but the intent was enough to cause Madara to back down. He has ways of making people talk.

"Fine. But if Shiori isn't out of the futon closet by midnight, you're telling me and Hashirama what happened, fair?"

"Fair," Izumi agreed and Ryusuke nodded. Madara looked over at the closet, sighed and went back to cooking.

"In the mean time both of you can help me make dinner."

"I... I have to go talk to Haruno Azami..." Ryusuke muttered.

"And I promised I'll see Naoko, take her out for noodles," Izumi got up and headed towards the door. Madara frowned and decided to let his chakra agitate just a little bit. He smirked when his sons suddenly changed their mind, saying their so-called prior engagements weren't so important anymore and that they'll be happy to help their father in the kitchen. Ryusuke went so far as to comment that he had a few streaks of silver in his normally black hair. Madara didn't like to be reminded that he was getting on in the years, and thus he was meticulous in dying his hair black at least every other week. As punishment, he made Ryusuke gut the chicken they were having for dinner that night.

* * *

"I'm home," Hashirama called as he walked in a fifteen minutes before dinner was ready. He took a deep breath and sighed happily at the smell of food. "Smells good, Madara."

"Welcome back," Madara called from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He left Izumi to make sure the food didn't burn. "And?" Madara asked.

Hashirama groaned. "I hate paperwork," Hashirama said as he hung up his Kage cloak and hat. "It's the worse enemy in history. And it never seems to be defeated! No matter how many petitions I sign or missions I approve! And Tobirama!" Hashirama turned to Madara with a desperate help-me look. "He's worse than an old woman! Nag, nag, nag, nag! And he's still pestering me about getting married!"

"Oh is he?" Madara arched a brow. "Did you remind him, again, for the umpteenth time that you are happily living with me and our adoptive children and that you have no desire to tie yourself down to a woman when he does the job just fine?"

Hashirama's shoulders slump, "I told him I'll think about it."

Madara slapped him. "Just for that, you can sleep in the living room." Madara snarled and headed back towards the kitchen.

"Oh, c'mon Madara! He always covers his ears whenever I bring up the fact that I'm with you!" Hashirama chased after his partner. "He only leaves me alone if I tell him I'll think about it! You know that!"

"He should just accept the fact that you have no interest in women!" Madara growled

"Hey now," Hashirama said as he walked up behind Madara, slipping his arms around his waist. "Don't be like this. He knows, and he... well he doesn't approve, but he deals with it." Hashirama whispered, placing a kiss on Madara's nape. "Don't banish me from our bed." Hashirama nuzzled Madara's neck and went in for a kiss on the cheek when Madara turned his head away.

"Not in public."

Hashirama looked over his shoulder to see Ryusuke and Izumi, who weren't paying any attention to their fathers. "This kids don't mind."

"I said, not in public!" Madara growled and pulled away from Hashirama. The Senju sighed, watching as Madara set the table.

"Boys, why don't you help your father."

"Okay," Izumi said and jerked his head at his brother, who followed. Hashirama looked around and noticed that Shiori wasn't present.

"Where's Shiori?" Hashirama asked.

"In the futon closet," Madara said softly. "I tried getting her out but she closed the door. Leave her be for now. She'll come out on her own, she always does."

"Right," Hashirama looked at the futon closet. "What spooked her this time?" he asked as he sat down.

"Don't know," Madara looked at their sons, "but the boys do. Claim Shiori made them swear not to tell."

"Boys?" Hashirama looked at his sons.

"Father said we have to tell at midnight if Shiori isn't out of the futon closet," Izumi said. "Until then we are keeping silent."

"Oh," Hashirama looked at Madara, who simply shrugged and dished out the meal. He made a plate for Shiori, in case she felt it was safe enough to come out of the closet, but he wasn't banking on it. Hashirama sighed sadly as half of the family sat down for dinner.

* * *

Shiori reached out and felt for the door, her fingers found the small notch and she slid it back. By the sounds in the house she guessed that dinner was over. She could feel both of her fathers' chakra now and her brothers were joking and laughing in the kitchen as they did the kitchen. It was safe. All was right in the world. Timidly, she wiggled out from between the futons, and exited the closet.

She was little bit taller than Madara but shorter than Hashirama, with pin-straight strawberry gold hair and her eyes were a blue-grey color, reminding people of rain water. Her fatigues hung loosely to her thin body. She wasn't at an unhealthy weight, as the healer assured her, she just wasn't very muscular. She looked frail and people often underestimated her.

Silently and in a daze, Shiori walked to the master bedroom. It was empty but the door to the veranda was open. She recognized her fathers, sitting there and play shogi, talking softly to each other about the time before the village system, when they were brats dreaming big and seemingly impossible dreams. She liked listening to them talk like this some times. It calmed her. She no longer remembered her birth parents, but she still remembered the terrible night her world was shattered forever. How she hid in the futon closet and ran when she felt it was safe. The orphanage didn't find her until she was four, and she bit the nun that tried to grab her.

Shiori smiled fondly as her eyes traced the outline of her fathers. It was these two men that brought her back to the light, that gave her warmth, safety and love when she needed it most. She was forever indebted to them and was proud to claim them as her parents. Silently, she walked up to them and sat just inside the room, watching as the shogi tiles clicked on the board.

Madara was the first to notice her. "Shiori," he smiled at her. "You came out," he patted her knee. Shiori inched closer to him, enjoying the warmth he radiated. "Do you want to tell us what happened?" Madara asked. Shiori looked into her father's dark grey eyes before looking into her other father's brown eyes then down at her feet.

"No disrespect Papa, but... you tend to overreact to things," Shiori said softly.

"I don't!" Madara scoffed. "I don't overreact do I Hashirama?"

"Well..." Hashirama grinned sheepishly. "Sometimes you do." He said, and Madara gave him a fierce frown.

"So... can I please talk to Daddy? Privately?" Shiori asked.

"Of course, princess," Madara nodded, noting by Shiori's tone that whatever happened still frightened her. "I'll be in the aviary." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before getting up and walking off. Hashirama waited a bit before gesturing towards the board.

"The game still isn't over," Hashirama said, "I know you know how to play."

"Of course," Shiori graciously inclined her head and took up Madara's empty seat across the shogi board.

While Shiori wasn't as skilled a player as Madara, Hashirama was impressed that she had just as sharp a mine. "Have you ever fought about focusing your skills on genjutsu?" he asked moving a piece.

"I don't have the Sharingan," Shiori replied, "so genjutsu would be pointless."

"No," Hashirama shook his head, "you don't need Sharingan for genjutsu. Lots of shinobi are very skilled in genjutsu and they lack Sharingan. Senju Toka, a cousin of mine, is one such example. She can teach you."

"I rather you or Papa teach me." Shiori set down a tile. "Papa's strict but you are fair. You two balance each other other."  
"Thank you, Shiori-chan," Hashirama smiled. "Now," he said, "what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Shiori froze, she bit her lip and looked down at the board, then her hands. She curled her hands up in her lap, and she could feel her body tremble minutely. "I... I... Izumi..."

"Did Izumi do something?" Hashirama asked. He was baffled if it was true. Izumi adored Shiori and had sworn to protect her the moment they brought her home.

Shiori shook her head. "No," she forced out, her breathe escaping in short gasps. "It wasn't. It was... this boy I liked," she whispered.

"Boy?" Hashirama's brows nearly leapt into his hair. Since when did his precious little Shiori like boys!? Since when did she talk to strangers she knew longer than thirty minutes.

"Yes," Shiori nodded. "He's... on my team," she whispered. "Miyatoki Naojiki." She gave a little smile but quickly crushed that into a frown. "I hate him now..." she clenched her hands into fists, "for what he tried to do to me."

"And that is?"

"Well," Shiori looked up at Hashirama. "He... we went to the forest. It was harmless at first, just cuddling and holding hands as we watched the birds. Then... he wanted it to become more. I wouldn't allow it. He got angry," she plucked at her shirt. "He tore my shirt off... grabbed my... my..." she gulped in air, "my chest," she breathed. "Pushed me down and... tried to take my pants off..." Izumi shuddered.

"Shiori, you don't have to continue," Hashirama said. It was taking all of his fine control not to let his chakra shatter the foundations of his house. How dare that boy. _How dare that boy _try to hurt his daughter in such a fashion.

"No!" Shiori shook her head, "I must. He got them down past my hips when Izumi and Ryusuke showed up. They... taught him a lesson."

"I see."

"Please... I just wanted you to know. Don't tell Papa. He'll gut Naojiki."

"I won't. But I'm reassign you to a new team. It won't be good for you to be on the same team as Naojiki."

"But..."

"No buts Shiori-chan," Hashirama said.

"Kimiko had nothing to do with it, she is innocent." Shiori said, and looked away, "Why don't you more Naojiki. I like Kimiko and her dog."

"Very well, I'll do that," Hashirama nodded. "Now, I want you to go to bed," he said.

"Yes Daddy," Shiori said. "Are you... you aren't going to gut him too?"

"Of course not," Hashirama smiled at her, "but tomorrow I am going to talk to him."

"Okay," Shiori smiled, before getting up and walking over to Hashirama. "Good night Daddy," she breathed and pressed a kiss to her father's cheek.

* * *

Hashirama crawled into bed sometime after midnight. Madara was away before he even got into bed. "Well?" Madara asked sleepily.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"So you are going to deal with it?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Madara snuggled into his pillow. "I have a mission tomorrow. It shouldn't take me too long, I'll be back in the evening. You need to make dinner."

"Fine," Hashirama sighed, rolling onto his side. He draped an arm over Madara's waist and pulled him closer. Madara hummed softly, rolled over and buried his face in Hashirama's neck. "I love you," Hashirama whispered only to yawn afterward.

"Stupid Senju," Madara replied. Hashirama smiled, knowing that it was just Madara's way of returning such feelings. Hashirama soon felt Madara's even breathing fan across his neck, while he stroked the Uchiha's thick unruly hair. It took him much longer to fall asleep, but sleep he did.

* * *

Hashirama knocked on the door to the Miyatoki house. A plump, kind face woman answered it. Hashirama knew that these people weren't shinobi born and bred, and that there son had talent as a ninja and thus they sent him to the ninja academy, oppose to the academy they had set up for civilian children. "Hokage-sama!" the woman greeted warmly.

"Hello, Miyatoki-san," Hashirama gave a little bow.

"What brings you here?" she asked after returning the bow.

"I'd like to speak with your son," Hashirama said.

"What do you want with me?" came a cocky voice behind Hashirama. The Senju leader stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

"You," he growled, chakra bubbling and causing the ground to shudder. "You will address me as Hokage-sama! And you will show me the respect I deserve!" His eyes narrowed.

"Y-Yes... Hokage-sama!" Naojiki squeaked. Hashirama stalked towards the boy, his presence seeming larger than life due to the effects of his unbridled chakra.

"What did you do to my daughter?" Hashirama asked.

"That bitch?" Naojiki snorted. "She didn't want to put out for me and—"

Hashirama roared and wrapped the teenager in a thick coil of wood. "What did you just call my daughter!?"

Naojiki squeaked and struggled against the wooden bonds. "A...b-bitch?"

"You do not disrespect my daughter!" Hashirama snarled squeezing tighter each time he felt the boy take in a shuddering breath. He'd crush this insolent little worm like a snake crushes a mouse. "How dare you try and hurt her like that! She's a war orphan! She lost her parents at the age of three!" Hashirama shouted, though the last part of his sentence was drown out as the earth gave a mighty crack. "And you dare try to pull something like that with her? Your were her teammate!" Hashirama screamed, "She trusted you!"

"I... I'm... s-s-sorry!" Naojiki gasped out.

"Hashirama!" two voices called his name at the same time and he recognized both of them. The Senju looked over at his brother and lover. Madara's eyes were wide with shock. He had fought Hashirama several times over the years, he knew how he fought and his strength, but he never felt such unchecked... _hate_, oozing from his kindhearted lover.

The other was Tobirama, who had dealt with Hashirama's fits of rage. "Oniisan, please calm down."

"NO!" Hashriama snarled. "I won't! Not until every bone in this brat's body is dust!"

"Please, Hokage-sama... don't hurt my son."

"Shut up, you old woman!" Hashirama lashed out at Naojiki's mother.

"Hashirama get a hold of yourself!" Madara moved to go towards him, but Tobirama grabbed his arm.

"Don't go near him right now. He could kill you," Tobirama warned as Madara jerked his arm out of his grip.

"If he hit me, I'd hit back," Madara spat and leapt at Hashirama, scythe swinging. "Hashirama, stop!" he screamed. A tree root rose up and blocked the attack. Madara landed on it skillfully. "Hashirama stop this! I think he's got the message!"

"He tried to force himself on Shiori!" Hashirama snarled. "Our little girl!"

Madara felt his blood run cold and his eyes shift as he looked at the boy held prisoner by his lover's mokuton. "Make him look into my eyes," Madara snarled. Hashirama snorted and did so. Naojiki's eyes grew wide as they locked with Madara's Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. He whimpered before going slack. Hashirama undid his mokuton, watching the boy drop to the ground in a heap. Madara cracked his neck from side to side, before looking at Naojiki's mother. "He'll wake up in three days, keep him bed bound for another three," Madara said and walked off with Hashirama in tow.

* * *

**This... wasn't how I wanted it to turn out. But oh well. **

**Hashirama got pissed off at least! **

**And Madara joined in a little bit, once he learned what happened to his Shiori-chan. And the genjutsu the boy is under features Hashirama. **

**Shiori is the youngest adoptive child of Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama. A war orphan. She lost her parents in a raid by Uchiha shinobi at the age of three. She survived in a city for a year by herself before she was taken in by an orphanage ran by nuns. Which is where Hashirama and Madara found her at the age of five. She was mute for five years before finally speaking again at ten. Shiori calls Madara "Papa" and Hashirama "Daddy". **

**Uchiha Izumi and Uchiha Ryusuke are the eldest and middle adoptive children of Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama. Their father was a dear friend of Izuna and deserted the Uchiha clan after the peace treaty was confirmed between Uchiha and Senju. Their parents were later killed and they ended up at the same orphanage as Shiori. Madara and Hashirama adopted them first, and Madara refused to divide the two brothers. Izumi refers to Madara as "Father" and Hashirama as "Dad", Ryusuke does the same as well. **

**R'n'R**

**Sanguinary Toxicity. **


End file.
